


Reckless

by Scylla87



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Sansa sees more than she bargained for, Shameless Smut, Trigger warning: mild description of rough sex in ch 3, awkward family situations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-06-27 21:56:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19798561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scylla87/pseuds/Scylla87
Summary: In the aftermath of walking in on Arya and Gendry, Sansa broods on what this develop might mean if anyone were to find out.(Basically, Sansa walked in on them and then proceeds to tell Jon.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a random idea I had that I am considering adding to at some point. Let me know what you think. Do you want to see the aftermath? Or maybe even the incident itself?

Reckless

Sansa smoothed out her dress as she took a seat behind the desk in her solar. The image of what she had seen flashed in her mind, bringing a frown to her face. Arya had always been wild, always done whatever she wanted whenever she wanted, but even she wouldn’t have guessed that her sister could be so reckless. It was one thing to carry a sword and wear breeches like a boy but to... Even in her mind Sansa couldn’t bring herself to say the words. Inadvertently, she witnessed the scene all over again. Everything about it filled her with rage. Her sister had never thought about anyone but herself. Even after all this time she was so incredibly selfish. No regard to how her actions might effect other people. Of course, Father always let Arya do whatever she wanted, no consequences for her actions. Why would she have ever learned to be any better? The thought tasted bitter on her tongue.

The knock that pulled her from her thoughts was a welcome reprieve until she saw who was on the other side of the door. Talk about people who let Arya do whatever the hell she wanted. Sansa glared at Jon from her seat behind the desk. He hadn’t done anything yet, but she knew in the inevitable conversation they would have he was like to take Arya’s side. “Have you seen our sister?” she asked him pointedly. Surely that was why he had come to see her, to tell her off for her disapproval.

Far from the reaction she had expected, Jon almost looked wounded at her words. The look was familiar, one she’d seen him wear often in childhood, usually when she referred to him as her half-brother. For the moment, she set aside her anger. “Is something wrong?” she asked, trying to arrange her features in a less hostile way.

Jon stares back at her in that broody way he always had and shook his head. “It can wait. What happened with Arya?”

Sansa considered saying nothing or trying to get whatever was bothering out of him, but on the end she said bluntly, “Arya is no longer a maiden.”

Of all the things she could have said, it was clear that that was not what he was expecting. “You sound so sure about that.”

The scene she had walked in on flash back across Sansa’s mind. “There is no way that I could be mistaken.”

She waited for bated for him to argue, to tell her that she was wrong or that it didn’t matter what their sister got up to. Instead he said, “Who?”

Sansa worked hard to picture the man’s face. It wasn’t, after all, the part of the scene she had been focused on. He was new, not someone she had become accustomed to seeing around Winterfell, but she had seen him around of late, though it was the first seen him in the castle, certainly the first time she’d found him in her sister’s bed. “I do not know his name. Arya did not take the time to introduce us.”

Jon laughed hollowly at that. “Not one of ours at least,” he muttered, possibly more to himself that to her.

Sansa nodded. “We did recently have a large influx of people,” she acknowledged. “Maybe he came with the Dragon Queen.”

The wounded look from before was back, but he stayed on topic for the time being. “Could you describe him? I might recognize him. She has few enough Westerosi that it should be too difficult to put a face to a name.”

Describing him meant visiting the memory of what she had witnessed, but with a sigh she attempted it, trying to keep her eyes away from the more salacious aspects of the scene. “Tall,” she said with a frown. “At least he appeared tall. He wasn’t in a position where I could be for certain.” She cleared her throat and shifted in her seat. “Young but certainly older than Arya, maybe of age with you. Blue eyes, I think. Dark hair shaved short.” She opened her mouth the apologize that she couldn’t be more detailed only to find that Jon was glaring off into space with a look of comprehension on his face. “You think you know the man?”

“Aye,” he replied, a dark edge to his voice she was not used to.

She nodded. “I suppose Queen Daenerys would be displeased if we had him gelded.”

To her surprise, Jon laughed at that. It was dark and humorless but a laugh all the same. “She like to thank us more like. If she knew who he was she’d probably burn him alive just to make sure no one knew he existed.” There was something about the way he said it that was unnerving.

Sansa sat in stunned silence. “He did not come with the Dragon Queen?” she asked, more for clarification than for an answer she needed.

“No,” Jon replied, “he did not come with Daenerys.” He frowned off into the distance for a long moment before he elaborated. “That is to say he arrived with her party, but he did not come with her. If that makes any sense at all.” It didn’t. “In fact,” Jon cleared his throat and look guiltily off into the distance, “he came here with me.”

The words echoed a little as they made their way to Sansa’s brain. “Who is he?” she struggled to get out.

“A smith that Davos brought with him to Dragonstone.” The words sounded like enough of the truth, but Sansa could sense there was a lie buried in there somewhere.

“What’s so special about this smith that Davos would have brought him to you?”

Jon’s eyes snapped to her own, the look in his eyes hard to read. “He was apprenticed to an armourer in Kings Landing that could rework Valyrian steal.”

“And?”

They had gotten to the part he was avoiding saying, that much was clear. “He’s King Robert Baratheon’s bastard son.”

Those words took even longer to reach her ears, but when they finally landed they rang true. There had been a certain familiarity to the man’s look that she had been having trouble placing, both before and after she had found him in her little sister’s bed. Now she knew where she’d seen him before; he looked like his father. “And you knew of his parentage when you brought him here?” She asked when she finally found her voice.

Jon’s jaw tightened. “I did. We needed good smiths, and the way Davos talked, Gendry was one of the best. And he didn’t seem much like his father. Clearly I was wrong about that.” He sounded almost sad to say it.

“You liked him,” she stated.

“Obviously I did not know what he was truly like.”

Sansa shrugged. “Father liked his father well enough, and everyone knew what the king was like. Still... this business with Arya...”

Jon nodded. “I will speak with him.” He sounded resigned as he said it.

“Just that?” Sansa asked, trying to get control of her anger. Of course Jon would take Arya’s side of things.

Jon at least had the foresight to looks abashed. “You know what she’s like,” he said, not quite meeting her gaze. “It wouldn’t be fair to just geld the man without knowing what happened between them.”

Sansa blanched. “I saw quite clearly what was happening between them. He dishonored our sister. What if he gets her with child?”

Jon’s jaw clenched. “I intend to ensure that doesn’t happen. I will speak with him, make it clear that whatever had happened between them,” he held up a hand to belay her comments, “and I don’t want details. Whatever occurred cannot occur again. I’ll find somewhere to put him where he’s far away from her.” He sighed heavily. “As far as her maidenhead, that’s done. If we end it now, no one need know.”

Sansa sighed herself. It wasn’t the best solution, but it was the best they were going to get for the time being. “At least don’t be kind when you speak with him,”

Jon snorted. “Oh, I assure you; I won’t be.”


	2. What Sansa Saw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to start off by saying thank you to everyone who took the time to read chapter one and comment. I plan to get to each of your comments individually, but for now, I just wanted to say how much I appreciate you guys taking the time to let me know you liked what I wrote. Hopefully you guys like this one too. As requested: I give you smut.

Chapter 2: What Sansa Saw

Gendry’s feet echoed in the deserted hall as he followed Arya deeper and deeper into Winterfell. This far into the interior, there was hardly any damage at all, so they were far away from the efforts of the other survivors still trying to sort out all the dead. They had been walking for a while, up stairs and down hallways, to a place that Arya clearly knew quite well. She did not once need to pause to check her surroundings. It was like her feet themselves knew where to go. And he continued to follow without question, until she reached a door at the end of a long hallway and pushed it open. Arya stepped into the room just as silently as she had led the way here, and Gendry stepped just as noisily in after her, eyes scanning their surroundings.

It was clear almost instantly that they were standing in her bedroom. The thought made him a little uncomfortable and suddenly nervous. She had not said where they were going, but he never imagined that she would bring him here. He struggled to find something to say. “It’s warm,” he finally landed on, feeling stupid even as the words left his mouth. In the distance he could see a fire burning in the grate.

She laughed lightly as she closed to door behind them. “The castle was built on hot springs. The water flows up through the walls, heating the rooms.” She was kind enough not to mention the obvious fire though she proceeded to walk toward it.

Reluctantly, he followed her. With each step his nervousness grew. The last time they were alone together came readily to his mind, and he had to use every ounce of willpower he had not to look at her bed in the corner. Instead he watched her, just barely able to keep his gaze away from her bed but not even remotely able to keep it from her ass. Her breeches fit her well, giving him the perfect view as she walked in front of him. The sound of her voice was the only thing that managed to pull his eyes away. “Would you like something to drink?” she asked, tone easily controlled and face guarded.

If he didn’t know any better, he would have guessed that she was nervous as well, though what she would have to be nervous about he hadn’t the faintest idea. He looked to the table sitting next to where she stood. There was a jug atop it and a couple of glasses. She was very pointedly looking directly at him, like she was willing herself not to look away as he nodded. Her hands were steady as she picked up the jug and poured some into both of their glasses. “It is only water,” she admitted as she passed him one of the cups. Their fingers brushed as he took it. “I was unsure if you would prefer ale or wine, figured water was safest.” The words had the hint of a confession to them.

Gendry took a long drink, trying, and failing to ignore the implication that she had planned this, had prepared to bring him here. As he drank, she stepped closer, fingers going to the clasp of his cloak. The fabric fell heavily toward the floor, but with lightning fast reflexes she caught it and placed it on a chair near the fire. He had managed to drain his cup by the time that she had returned to his side. “Would you like more?” she asked, fingers brushing his again as she took his cup.

“No,” he whispered back. He should have said other things, wanted to say other things, but having her so close was distracting.

As if she could read his thoughts, she stepped even closer, head tilted up to meet his gaze. She was so close that he could feel her breath on his face. He tried to form the words to ask her why she’d brought him here, the question on the tip of his tongue when she reached out to him. Her hand brushed against him, fingers just barely grazing against his hardening cock and words failed him. This was the last thing he had expected to happen when she asked him to come with her. A part of him knew that this was not a good idea, but that part hadn’t even had the chance to whisper all the reasons why before he was reaching out to her too, and pulling her in for a kiss.

Their lips parted, tongues brushing against each other frantically. It was like a dam had been broken. The second their lips touched, the rest of them had to touch as well. Hands pulled at garments, clothes falling to the floor, one after another. With each discarded item, Arya would take a step back and Gendry would follow. They were getting closer and closer to her bed, Arya’s smallclothes hitting the floor right before her knees hit the edge.

Gendry paused then, the realization of what they were about to do suddenly hitting him. Arya Stark stood in front of his naked. It was not the first time she had done so, but now that the threat of imminent death was gone, it seemed all the more wrong. He knew for a fact this time around that he would wake up in the morning knowing that he had lain with her, that he knew how she tasted, how she felt, how she moved. Suddenly, standing in her room, almost all his clothes scattered on her floor, seemed foolish. He should leave now before any damage had been done. _But hasn’t the damage already been done?_ A voice whispered in his head. Unbidden, the memory of the last time they had lain together came to his mind. He had been sure that he knew what she had meant when she said she wanted to know what it was like before she died, and then when he’d slid inside her, he had realized he was right. That damage was done. He couldn’t help but shift guiltily. If anyone knew what they had done…

The thought stayed uncompleted in his mind as Arya laid back on the bed, legs falling open and giving him the perfect view. Everything before the battle had been so rushed that he hadn’t really had the chance to look at her, so he took the chance to look now. Between her parted thighs was her mound, covered in dark hair, and just the faintest glimpse of pink when she moved the right way. He knew from experience that she was tight and wet and warm. The memory made his cock twitch. She adjusted her hips again, giving him another flash of pink. The sight was too much for him. Without thinking, he reached out and ran his fingers along her slit.

Just the barest graze told him that she was dripping wet. His fingers slid through her folds easily. She sighed softly, head turning to watch him with half-lidded eyes. There was no room to doubt that she was enjoying what he was doing to her as his fingers slipped inside her. Another soft sigh fell from her lips. The sound was too much for him. Whatever hope he’d had of stopping fled, and he found himself pushing down his smallclothes so he was just as bare as her. A soft moan escaped her at the sight of his cock. The second he had rid himself of the last barrier between them, he pulled her closer to the edge of the bed and pushed himself inside her.

The feel of her was incredible, even better than last time. Her walls closed in around him, squeezing him softly as he carefully moved within her. They fit was perfect, like they were made for each other. “I dreamt of this,” she whispered, a slight blush to her cheeks as he pushed deep inside of her.

He groaned. It was like something she would have told him in a dream, but he had never dreamt of having her exactly like this. “Every time I’ve dreamt of this you were on top of me, like before,” he told her, pulling his cock out of her reluctantly. He looked down at it, to find it wet with her arousal. It was the most mind-blowing sight he’d ever seen in his life.

Arya nodded and sighed, crawling away from the edge to give him room to crawl up on the bed beside her. Within moments she had straddled him, easing back down onto his cock. They both moaned together. Her tits bounced slowly as she began to ride him. He reached out and held her steady, already having to fight the urge to lose control. The walls massaging his cock squeezed harder, her pussy practically milking him. “We should stop,” he whispered, even as he pressed his thumb against the nub just above where they were joined.

Arya shook her head and sped up, the fluttering of her walls increasing with each rub of his thumb against her nub. She was just on the edge, very carefully falling apart on his cock. Her mouth opened, a long drawn out moan escaping as she peaked. The pressure was becoming too much. If they didn’t stop soon… “Arya,” he said warningly.

“Don’t you dare pull out,” she hissed back.

Her tone left no room for argument as she rode out the aftershocks of her pleasure. Gendry tried to hold on, but the tight warmth around him was too much. He flicked his hips deep and filled her. Another soft moan escaped her as his cock continued to twitch inside her.

A voice interrupted the bliss of the moment. “Arya,” it said, “What the hell are you doing?”

Gendry turned toward the door, his stomach plummeting. Standing in the doorway was Lady Sansa Stark, and it was clear by her expression that despite her question, she knew exactly what they were doing. Suddenly, he could see his life passing before his eyes. When Jon found out about this, he would kill him.


	3. What Was Meant to Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that it has taken me so much longer than expected to get this up. I was working a lot, and that was not conducive to having much time to write. Hopefully you enjoy this though it is very late. Thanks so much for reading.

Chapter 3: What Was Meant to Be

Arya rolled over onto her stomach with a contented sigh. There was a pleasant ache inside of her from their latest round of lovemaking and a wetness between her thighs that she knew was not solely her pleasure. In her blissed-out state, she had forgotten how many times they had coupled. Was it three? No, four. She was forgetting the time he had pinned her to the mattress and took her from behind. A soft moan fell from her lips at the memory. She wouldn’t have thought that she would have liked that, being pinned down and her legs wrenched apart so he could have his way with her, but the thought alone made her walls clench. How long had it been since they had last coupled? Five minutes? Ten? Would he be ready to take her again? She reached out to him, hand effortlessly finding his cock, half-hard and still wet with her juices, and gave a few experimental tugs. A soft groan escaped him as his cock fattened up in her hand. She lifted her hips up off the mattress, telling him wordlessly what she wanted, what she needed him to do. It was not a message he had trouble understanding. Mere moments after she had asked, his weight was on top of her, pinning her to the bed. He was gentler this time as he entered her with a soft, “oh fuck,” whispered in her ear.

Her walls gripped him tightly, already so sensitive from the time they’d spent together that even just the slightest drag of his cock had her on edge. His hips rolled against hers slowly, keeping himself deep and hitting her just where she needed it the most. A hand slid around her hip, fingers diving into the wetness just above where they were joined. Sparks shot through her as he touched something that made her clench around him even tighter. “Harder,” she tried to groan, but the word came out more as a plea.

He groaned deeply as he was quick to obey. Their hips slammed together, and deep inside her she felt his cock start to twitch. He was close. The knowledge made her moan as she met him thrust for thrust. She squeezed around him as he tried to rub her in time with his thrusts. The sweet oblivion of release was so close she could almost taste it. His hips slammed against her hard, pressing her into the mattress as she felt him let go at last. He held her still as he spilled his seed inside of her. The sudden feel of him made her moan, her walls fluttering wildly. His finger against her was relentless as she began to fall over the edge.

With a soft grunt he pulled his spent cock from inside of her and collapsed on the bed near where she lay. Almost shyly, she looked over at him. She was never quite sure what to say to him right after they had lain together. When they had been children, she had watched him intently, a yearning deep inside of her that she didn’t quite understand. She felt that same yearning now with the benefit of understanding. So, so much understanding. Why she had watched him so closely. Why he’d had that special knack for annoying her in ways no one else did. Why, and the memory brought a deep blush to her face no matter how much she had learned to mask her features, when she was older and flowered and would touch herself at night, the person who always came to mind was him. Always right after he had spilled within her, she wanted to whisper to him about this understanding. She wanted to tell him how this had been meant to happen, how it would have happened sooner had they never been apart. If she told him that the first time she had ever gotten wet she was thinking of him would he be able to say the same? Probably not. He had been a boy when they had met but much closer to a man grown in truth. And there had been those other girls. Just the thought of them made her insides burn. Had he lain beside them after, like he did with her? Had he taken them over and over again until their insides ached and couldn’t take anymore? The thought made her stomach clench as she looked over at him and caught sight of his cock, spent but showing the clear signs of their lovemaking, a mixture of their come mingled around the tip. She opened her mouth to speak, to say the many things that had invaded her thoughts, only to be interrupted by the sudden, persistent knocking on the door to her quarters.

Guilt hit her suddenly. She had sworn to Gendry that it was fine, that they were fine, that it didn’t matter what her sister saw, what she knew. Arya had been so sure that she could deal with Sansa in time. Apparently, she had been wrong. All that time that Gendry would have had to flee, wasted, all because she had convinced him to stay. She tried to push the thought from her mind as he frantically tried to find his clothes.

The person on the other side of the door was getting impatient, each knock rattling the door against the heavy wooden bolt that now held it shut. The sound filled her with dread. When she looked over at Gendry, she saw similar emotions written all over his face. “It’s probably just the maid,” she lied. “Wait here and stay quiet. I’ll deal with it.”

Without a backward glance, she grabbed the dressing gown Sansa and given her and wrapped it around herself before ducking out of her bedchamber and shutting the door. The intruder into their blissful time together continued to knock, each beating the door becoming more and more frantic. “Alright, I’m coming,” she called with no attempt to disguise her displeasure.

The knocking stopped as she reached the door and pulled the beam away. The second the obstruction was clear, the person on the other side wrenched the door open, and Arya found herself face to face with Jon. Unconsciously, she took a step back. Suddenly, she was very aware that she was naked beneath the thin bit of fabric she had wrapped around herself and the way Gendry’s come leaked down her thighs as she moved. The thoughts that shot through her head were wild. Was he here because of what Sansa had walked in on? Surely not. Surely her sister hadn’t told him. “Jon,” she said, partially as a warning to Gendry in the next room.

Her brother stepped past her, eyes scanning the room for something she couldn’t be sure about. “I’ve been looking for you,” he said simply.

Arya pulled the dressing gown closed even more. “I’ve been busy,” she replied.

An odd look passed Jon’s face at her words, and suddenly he seemed to be having trouble looking at her. So Sansa had told him. The realization left her feeling cold. “Is there something you needed?” she asked, hoping he would take the hint. They had always known each other so well as children that she hoped he would know better than to pursue this further.

“I had hoped to speak with Gendry, but no one seems to know where he is.” The question was clear in his voice though he did not speak it out loud. She remained silent, unwilling, for the moment, to have this fight with him. “Little sister,” he said, voice half a plea.

She had waited long years for him to call her that again, but now the words only made her grit her teeth. He would come here and speak to her as if she was still the little girl whose hair he used to muss. “Is there something you needed?” she asked, aggravation clear in her tone.

He took a half step back at her words but otherwise held his ground. “Sansa seems to think,” he began, eyes not quite locking onto her.

“Oh, I’m well aware what Sansa thinks. You can kindly tell her that I said to fuck off.”

Her words seemed to shock him by the way he turned to look at her, surprise written all over his face. “Arya, you have to understand-“

“What exactly do I have to understand?” she asked, taking a step forward. “That it will be harder now to sell me off to the highest bidder? Is that what you and Sansa have been discussing behind my back?”

She knew better than to let her anger get the better of her, knew better than to allow them to get to her, but the idea that they would concern themselves with something that was entirely her own business was too much for her. Jon looked taken aback by the venom in her words. “I expected this kind of bullshit from Sansa, but from you…”

“What would you do if he got you with child? Have you thought of that?”

Arya’s mouth opened and closed. Mentally she went over what she had learned from the whores in Braavos. She had had her moonblood less than a week before the battle. “It is unlikely he could have gotten me with child,” she replied.

Jon looked ready to choke. What he thought she meant by that, she didn’t want to know. Arya continued. “And if he did, it would be no concern of yours. Maybe I’d take care of it, maybe I’d go somewhere people didn’t give a damn about bastards, maybe I’d even marry him, but I assure you, if and when that time comes, I won’t be asking your opinion on the matter.”

“Marry him?” Jon asked, words barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” Arya said with a shrug. “Love matches are rare but not uncommon.”

For a moment he froze, eyes locked somewhere near her left ear. “Love?” he questioned, as if he’d never heard the word before. “I don’t know what he promised you…” he began.

“Nothing,” she said. “He promised me nothing. But I required nothing from him.”

Her brother scoffed. Before he could speak, she continued, “Not that it is any of your business, but I have known him since I was a girl. He stuck by me, and protected me, and always had my back no matter what. He kept my secret when selling me out to the Lannisters could have gotten him a few silvers and a decent place to sleep and something to eat when we were starving and sleeping on the ground. He didn’t need fancy words and promises, because he had already given me everything. When he had nothing, he shared every little bit he managed to get with me. And I would rather give my maidenhead to someone like that than to some high lord who’d clothe me in fine silks and fancy jewels because he wants what is in between my legs. At least Gendry sees me, and knows me for who I am, more than just some high lord’s daughter who grew up in a castle. He saw me scraped and bruised with dirty bare feet and twigs in my hair and yet still wants to bed me. How could I ever hope to do better than that? You look on at this as some kind of tragedy, but this is what was always meant to be.”

Jon looked at her aghast as she finished. “Arya…” he began.

She held up a hand to stop him. “I am a woman grown and have long since gotten out of the habit of letting anyone else tell me what to do. I don’t intend to get back into the habit now. So, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do.”

She wrenched open the door to her chambers and stared at him pointedly. Even as he walked through the open door, she knew it was not the end of it, but for now, maybe he would leave her alone. And she would have a talk with Sansa later. If they couldn’t be made to see reason, she’d just have to leave. She wasn’t sure yet where her and Gendry would go, but surely there was somewhere they could go to be in peace.


End file.
